Things Will Never Be The Same
by Krys33
Summary: “If I do that, we can’t go back. You know that, don’t you? Things will never be the same.” A GC story, taking place around the events of 'Grissom VS. The Volcano'.


A/N: This piece has been in the works for quite some time now. I'm glad it's finally going somewhere. Numerous sections were inspired by movies like RENT and The Dead Poet's Society. (If you've seen those, you'll understand when you get there.) Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine in the slightest. :D

--

"Whenever we get – what's the word? – _close_, anywhere in the neighborhood of emotional vulnerability, you back off or make some joke or find any way to shut the door on me."

-Cassie Robinson, 'Supernatural' (Route 666)

--

Gil and Catherine exited their car and approached the sheriff, their questions evident by the looks on their faces.

"Car bomb." Sheriff Rory Atwater told them. "Driver and valet are dead. Another valet is critical. Got at least a dozen injured. I was having dinner here; was on my way out. It'd gone off a couple seconds later you'd be picking my badge up off the ground."

Grissom spoke. "Thank God you're alright." It was a shocking revelation to know that the sheriff could've found himself dead. "Sheriff, did they sweep the area for secondaries?"

"Bomb squad says it's all clear."

Catherine surveyed the scene. "We'll photo-document the scene. Overalls from all angles. Aerials as well."

As soon as Grissom heard the shots ring out, he immediately acted on first instinct, shielding Catherine from harm against the nearest vehicle. When the noise stopped, Gil rested a hand on her arm, looking around. Once he was sure there was no danger, he let go of Catherine and stepped away from the car in one swift movement.

Catherine turned around, still somewhat in shock, leaning against the vehicle for support. "Thanks." She told Grissom, but he didn't hear her. He was already approaching the sheriff, determined.

Before Sheriff Atwater could even open his mouth to speak, Grissom started in on him.

"I thought you said you cleared the area." His voice was on the borderline of shouting.

The sheriff narrowed his eyes at the supervisor. "What I _said_ was-" He began, but Grissom cut him off.

"Any one of them could've been killed." He told the sheriff, motioning at the terrified crowd huddled near the building. "You could've been killed. _She_ could've been killed." When he reached his last sentence, Grissom was full-out yelling as he swung his arm around and pointed behind him at Catherine.

He was about to begin another angry sentence, but silenced at the feel of a hand on his outstretched arm. Turning around, he saw Catherine grasping his wrist, eyebrows raised.

Grissom took a deep breath as she led him away from the sheriff. Once they had reached a more remote location, she dropped his arm and looked him in the eye.

"It could've been you, too, Gil." Catherine told him in a quiet voice.

Grissom brushed this comment off with a wave of his hand. "Doesn't matter."

Catherine's eyes widened slightly. "Gil-"

"We should really get to work."

And with that he was gone, right back into his shell.

--

Catherine studied Grissom across the table as he looked over one of the many folders strewn between them. She herself had a file open in front of her, but she chose instead to focus her thoughts on the happenings that had occurred previously in the evening.

Feeling her stare, Grissom looked up and met her gaze. He could sense she had something to ask him. "Yes?" he prompted her.

"Earlier, back at the… the crime scene…" She started, unable to really find the right words. "What was that all about?"

Grissom conveyed his confusion in a single look. Catherine began to elaborate. "You, uh, you covered me." He just gave a small nod. "Why?"

Immediately detaching his eyes from hers, he refocused his attention to the folder set before him. He repeated his statement from before. "Doesn't matter."

She knew she had him this time. There was nowhere for him to run to. "It does, though, Gil." Silently, she willed him to raise his head again. "It does."

Grissom took a deep breath, contemplating his next move. After a moment, he met her gaze again. And this time there was anger and desperation in his voice. "No, Catherine." He told her. "It doesn't."

He snapped the file in front of him shut and slid it beneath his arm as he left the room, leaving a stunned Catherine in his wake.

--

Grissom tossed the folder he'd been carrying onto his desk and took a seat, emitting a sigh. He removed his glasses and gently placed them atop the file as he leaned forward, putting his elbows onto the surface and rubbing his temples.

He hadn't meant to hurt her like that. He saw what he'd done, the pain on her face. And he was sorry.

But why did she have to ask? Why did she have to push this? Didn't she know that it really _didn't _matter?

Because relationships within the workplace can go haywire. And the one thing he learned in this line of work, on his first _day_ of work, was that no one was safe. Ever.

Relationships don't come with lifetime guarantees, and that's what he was afraid of. He was terrified of getting close to people if he would just end up losing them.

But what he didn't realize was that he had crossed that boundary with Catherine ages ago. They were extremely close. And he didn't comprehend that if he lost her now, it would hurt just as bad if she were gone.

It would even hurt worse. Because he would then have to live with the horrible ramifications of his silence. He would have to live with all the should-haves and could-have-beens and what-ifs and maybe-had-I-saids.

And as he sat, thoughts swirling and nearly incomprehensible in his mind, Catherine was standing outside the door. Unbeknownst to him, she was having the same thoughts. She did share his profession, after all.

But she was more rational, in this case, at least. She saw what needed to be done, and now.

She was more of a glass-half-full type of person. Rather than taking the road of isolation she knew Grissom took, she preferred to live life to the fullest. If she could go at any moment, wouldn't she want to have given life her all?

After a deep breath, she gathered up her courage and knocked carefully on the door, jarring her supervisor from his thoughts. Even through the heavy surface, she could hear his sigh. "Come in, Catherine."

She couldn't help but smile, knowing he knew her better than anyone ever had. This only cemented in her mind that they needed to take the plunge, dive in headfirst and pray to God everything worked out as wonderful as they had always imagined.

Swinging open the door, she walked in, her head held high. She took a seat in the chair opposite him, entwining her fingers as she looked at him over the desk. "Gil," Catherine began, softly. "Why'd you do it?"

Ah, the dreaded question.

"You know, Catherine."

She gave the tiniest of smiles and shook her head, just barely. "I'm not asking because I don't know. I _know_. I'm asking because you need to admit to both me and yourself what you've been keeping under wraps all this time."

He met her intense gaze with his own, the same anger and desperation from before in his voice. "If I do that, we can't go back. You know that, don't you? Things will never be the same."

"Don't you see, though?" she asked. "That's the point."

And acting on a moment of impulse, she leaned over the desk, and in one swift movement captured his lips with her own in a soft kiss. She pulled away, smiling.

"Things _will_ never be the same. They'll be better."

--

End


End file.
